


Weakness

by yeaka



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Ficlet, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 07:18:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9425234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Volga’s invited to Ghirahim’s fun.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Legend of Zelda or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Even in the dead of night, her castle is a cacophony of horrors; each corridor he slinks down has a new haunting sound. He ignores the pounding of the ever-restless moblin feet, the clattering of darknuts at practice, and the shrieks of lizalfos in troubled dreams. He doesn’t like to leave his room at this hour—doesn’t _need_ a room at all, not when he would have his caves again, if he could—but Cia keeps her lieutenants close and her spirits closer. Ghirahim’s in one of the higher towers across the keep, and that’s where Volga heads, with such a hatred for _all this_ growing in his heart.

But he reaches the tower finally, and the darkness is quiet again—Ghirahim holds these chambers for himself. Volga follows the spiral stairs until he’s reached the door at the very top, and he doesn’t bother to knock. He was invited. He slips inside and shuts the door firmly behind himself, then turns his attention to the large canopy bed in the center of the room, draped in crimson blankets and candlelight from golden stands on either side. Ghirahim’s perched gracefully against the headboard. 

And the ‘hero’ of the light sits in his lap, bare of any clothing. It halts Volga in his tracks and sets the _heat_ inside him instantly flaring to the ends. _Link_ , they call him, faces outward, back flush with Ghirahim’s chest, his own creamy front washed peach-orange in the low light. His broad shoulders are flexed, arms tight at his sides, fingers clutching vainly at the sheets. His breast is arched forward, rosy nipples pebbled to hardness. His lush thighs are spread, the round cheeks underneath impaled on a thick, ashen cock, his own pink and flushed against his stomach. Ghirahim is just as naked, save for his earrings and the purple paint around his eyes. His white hair covers half his face, the other buried in Link’s sunshine-yellow hair, tongue curled obscenely around Link’s neck. Link wears a thin sheen of sweet and is panting hard, pink lips open wide, but his eyes are hidden behind one of Ghirahim’s hands. The other is wrapped around Link’s middle, fingers spread to trace all the taut muscles they can. 

Ghirahim pries himself from his prize long enough to smirk at Volga, who demands in a dark hiss, “What the _hell_ is going on?”

“I’m having some fun,” Ghirahim purrs, voice silk-smooth and teasing. He dances up Link’s chest to pluck at one nipple for show, eliciting a sharp hitch of breath from the man in his lap. Link’s hips twitch, but Ghirahim is still. Link begins to squirm, but Ghirahim ignores it. Volga can’t help but think, though he tries to focus on his own ally, that if _he_ were the one to pin down such a handsome creature, he wouldn’t be able to stop pounding into them for the life of him. When Volga doesn’t respond to Ghirahim’s words—perhaps being too busy ogling Link’s stretched hole—Ghirahim adds, “Well? Are you going to join or not?”

Volga scowls. He’s sworn to serve Cia, but he’s hardly that kind of villain. He has half a mind to _rescue_ the one man they’ve chased more than any other, but then Ghirahim’s hand falls away from Link’s face, and the sight it reveals staggers Volga. 

Link looks _enraptured._ His sky-blue eyes are dilated so wide they’re almost entirely black, and his lashes are so heavy they fall practically to his cheeks. His gaze is distant, pleasure-addled, and when he turns it to Volga, that lust intensifies tenfold. He says nothing, as is typical, but his expression speaks volumes. Then Ghirahim slips one hand under each of Link’s knees and bends them back, pinning them against Link’s chest, showing off even more of Link’s ripe rear split open on Ghirahim’s cock. Rocking his hips just enough to make his shaft move and make Link moan, Ghirahim chuckles, “He’s not going to ask you, if that’s what you’re waiting for—probably too embarrassed over how wantonly he begged me to give him the release his own team never could. So _I_ , like the fabulous host I am, extended your invitation for him. Turns out Zelda’s little hero can never get enough cock...” Link whimpers at the name, and Ghirahim stabs up suddenly, forcing Link to toss his head back and cry out. It’s similar to what Volga’s heard on the battlefield, but so much _more_ , and it goes straight to his cock. “...Especially when he knows it comes from his superiors...”

Volga did _want_ to best Link, but this isn’t how he thought he’d do it. He can’t stop _staring_. Link writhes in Ghirahim’s grasp with such fierce desperations, hands reaching back to claw at Ghirahim’s shoulders, but Ghirahim only laughs and licks at his throat, long tongue leaving glistening trails along his smooth skin. Volga’s own tongue feels thick, mouth dry.

He still manages to mutter, “We should take him to Cia now...”

 _That_ wakes Link up; his eyes harden, body tensing—Volga half expects him to lunge for a discarded sword. But Ghirahim thrusts his arms possessively around Link’s middle, holding him tight, and sneers, “Don’t be ridiculous—that would break the deal. This isn’t a fight, you stupid beast.” Volga bristles, but listens, because he _wants this_ —“I’ve already agreed I would do no such thing when he comes to me for this, and you will too, if you want to see him again. Cia would slay him on sight, and we would never taste him. Would you let her destroy such treasure?”

No. Volga’s a guardian spirit and understands protecting beauty as much as Ghirahim understands protecting power. He still snorts, “He’s just trying to seduce you to his side.”

“It’s almost working,” Ghirahim coos, leaning over Link’s shoulder to lick crudely up his cheek. Link only suffers a weak moan and leans into it. “Besides,” Ghirahim scoffs, “it isn’t like I’m fucking _Zelda_ : just one little soldier in her pathetic army. Who cares what they think of some legendary hero? The only role he really fills is that of _my fucktoy._ ” He gives Link a hard shove as he says it, pushing Link down onto the bed, and Link scrambles onto hands and knees, still pinned to Ghirahim’s crotch. He stays on all fours like a wild animal, bracing himself smartly on the bed, and Ghirahim laughs approvingly and smacks one side of his ass. _Jealousy_ races down Volga’s spine. 

As though he needs anything more to sell it, Ghirahim starts moving, thrusts forward and draws sharply back, and Link cries out again for it, looking already ragged and used. His head hangs, shoulders trembling, while Ghirahim falls into a steady rhythm of brutal thrusts. Every one makes Volga all the harder. The wet squelching noise of Ghirahim’s lubed cock pushing into Link’s pried-open hole and the slapping sounds of skin-on-skin are nothing to Ghirahim’s luxurious snickering and Link’s needy pleas. Then Ghirahim fists a hand in Link’s hair and jerks it up, pulling his neck taut again. Link whines but bears it, eyes scrunched closed and hips grinding greedily back onto Ghirahim’s cock. “Well?” Ghirahim laughs, clearly knowing he’s won. “Do you really not want to fill his mouth with your dick?”

Volga wants nothing more. He watches, mesmerized, as Link’s eyes peek open, sliding to pierce Volga with a smoldering intensity, his pink tongue poking out to trace his lips. It looks so tiny and delicate next to Ghirahim’s lewd monstrosity. The thought of it lapping up and down Volga’s cock is too much to take. 

So he growls his defeat and marches over, climbing right onto the bed, his heavy armour indenting the mattress. He crawls up to Link as he undoes the clasps of the plate over his crotch, and as soon as it’s open, his cock is jutting out, no less impressive than that of his true form. It’s much larger than Link’s, redder, equally as hard, and Link’s eyes widen for it. Then he darts out of Ghirahim’s grip on his hair and lunges forward, wide mouth hungrily swallowing it down. Volga roars with sheer _pleasure_ as Link’s plush lips slide over the head, sucking deeper—Link’s mouth is so _tight_ around him, so hot and wet, and Link takes an absurd amount right from the start, letting it slide along his tongue and slam right to the back of his throat. The groan he lets out is muffled around it, but Volga can feel the vibrations perfectly. Ghirahim only picks up the pace, fucking Link harder, and it shoves Link forward only to drag him back. Link tries to take more every time, until Volga’s sliding down his throat. It fills him up so much that it makes his cheeks bulge, jaw forced almost grotesquely wide, but the legendary hero proves his endurance once more. Volga doesn’t mind the occasional scrape of teeth. Best of all, he loves the way Link suddenly hollows out his cheeks and sucks with all his might, applying enough pressure to make Volga’s head spin.

Link’s obviously had plenty of practice at this. Ghirahim obviously loves to use him. Ghirahim pounds into his ass without mercy, fingers digging angry red bruises into his hips. Volga threads his own fingers into Link’s sweat-matted hair and finds it softer than he could have imagined. He doesn’t have to tug Link at all—Ghirahim’s thrusts take care of it, but Volga gets the distinct impression Link would be eagerly bobbing on and off even without the help. His hands stay in the mattress, holding himself up, but his clouded gaze is lost in Volga’s stomach, cheeks as red as his abused ass. He sucks on every withdrawal and wriggles his tongue along the underside of Volga’s cock, mouthing enthusiastically at it. Ghirahim lets out a random laugh, sultry and sex-soaked, and Volga understands. It’s almost comical, how well Zelda’s favourite takes to cock. Volga finds himself smirking for it, finds his hips moving of their own accord, pounding into Link’s kiss-swollen lips in time with Ghirahim. Saliva is already starting to pool around the edges of Link’s mouth, tricking down his chin, but Volga likes the mess. He has the distinct urge to _drench_ Link in spit, sweat, and seed. The thought that Link stole all the way here, in the dead of night and under threat of death, just for this treatment, is wildly exciting. Volga pets happily through Link’s honey hair as he pounds away, and Link mewls for the touch. 

Ghirahim is the first to come. Volga hadn’t expected it, but for all he knows, Ghirahim’s already been fucking Link for hours, and he ends with a giddy shriek. Link’s whole body seems to tense for it, even though Volga doesn’t think he’s finishing, but Ghirahim’s only more violent in his orgasm, filling Link so hard that, if Volga’s crotch weren’t holding him up, he’d likely be fucked right down and through the mattress. Instead, his ass reddens under the abuse, and he whimpers and cries around Volga’s cock, while Volga watches his fellow lieutenant drown in pleasure.

The sight of that, of Ghirahim at his most beautiful, just as much as Link’s skillful attentions, is what pushes Volga over. He comes a moment later with a feral roar and a rush of hot cum right down Link’s throat—he holds Link on by the hair and ruts forward, grinding into his mouth, to make sure he takes it all. Link doesn’t even struggle, just swallows hurriedly around his plug. It isn’t enough—white globs still bubble out the sides, joining the spit-trails down his chin, but he swallows rapidly and drinks all he can. He just can’t do it enough for a _dragon_. Ghirahim stares as Volga fills Link’s mouth over and over, knowing he’s probably filling Link’s entire stomach. Link takes it all, one enormous gulp after another, until Volga’s finally coming down, his head spinning and his stream puttering out. When he pulls his flagging cock out of Link’s mouth, he drags a pool of cum with him, and Link leans forward to try and lick it away, despite the mess already coating his lips. Volga moans anew and wonders how long he needs between rounds—he had no idea mortals could be so _virile_. 

Link is a masterpiece. Fucked-raw, he laps away every drop of seed he can, licking all over Volga’s cock and burrowing into his crotch, even cleaning his heavy balls, until there’s nothing left. Then Ghirahim pushes Link down, and Link gasps, probably at Ghirahim’s cock finally sliding out of him. Ghirahim only lets him rest a minute, then rolls him easily onto his back and reaches beneath his tailbone to lift his rear—Ghirahim bends Link in two, legs in the air, cock pointing straight down at his face and hole exposed for Volga’s enjoyment. Ghirahim uses two thumbs to stretch the puckered brim wider and show off the milky cream inside. Ghirahim smirks broadly, as though Volga needed any more incentive to let this continue, but Ghirahim presses on, “How could you betray our pet, with how much seed of ours he can hold in him, hm?”

Volga really couldn’t. He stares at the way Ghirahim plays with Link’s hole, poking one grey finger in again to stroke the flushed walls, and Link shivers, moaning hoarsely. Some of Ghirahim’s seed slips out and down between Link’s tight balls, snaking around his shaft. While Link’s still held in his undignified position, Ghirahim reaches around to clutch his cock and coo, “Come for your lord now, darling.” It only takes a few pumps of Ghirahim’s dry hand for Link to scream, hips bucking, and his tip spurts several white jets right down onto his face. Ghirahim pumps it out like milking a cow, until Link’s smeared in cum on both ends. Only then does Ghirahim move back and let Link fall, lying oh his back, utterly spent. He pants harder than Volga’s ever seen him do on the battlefield, but he deserves it. Volga understands now why Ghirahim would betray everything for him. 

Ghirahim abandons both other men to shuffle back for the covers, which he slips deftly under, rolled up to the side so as not to disrupt them. He sends a little wind of diamonds to blow out the candle on that side. With a dramatic yawn, he sighs, “Now that you’re here, Volga, would you mind terribly flying Link home?” Volga looks up, startled, but Ghirahim doesn’t bother to return it. He looks almost already asleep.

He’s cunning, coy, and annoying, but before Volga can protest, Link’s shuffled over to rest his head on Volga’s thigh. It can’t be comfortable, but Link doesn’t seem to mind. He looks exhausted but satiated and pleased. A swell of _want_ beyond simple desire rises in Volga’s chest. He’s suddenly immensely glad he managed not to burn this small creature—if he’d been touching more of Link’s body, if he’d actually taken his mouth to Link’s, he probably would’ve. As it is, Volga slowly gathers Link up in his arms. 

He finds a pile of green clothes on the counter across the room but knows Link will need a shower before dressing. He has such amenities in his own quarters and for a moment considers taking Link there.

But then he remembers Ghirahim’s words, and he knows he wants this again. He knows he can’t betray this one soldier. So he takes Link outside, becomes himself, lets Link climb tiredly onto his back and clutch about his neck, and traitorously flies for Hyrule.


End file.
